


Almost

by Pinkelephant42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-28
Updated: 2007-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkelephant42/pseuds/Pinkelephant42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a while after the war for Neville to find his place, but can he help Harry do the same? Additional pairings: background Hermione/Ron and kind-of-but-not-really Neville/Ernie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of AU, as it was written before Deathly Hallows was released. Also, written for Slashfest on LJ, for Fiona_Fawkes. This is one of my favorite fics of the ones I wrote, and I really enjoyed writing it, so please enjoy it. :)

Dinner at Grimmauld Place was always chaotic, with all the people staying there now. It was safe though, under the care of Mrs. Weasley and Remus Lupin, and the protection of several Aurors and Harry Potter. 

Well, relatively. Dinner was still mostly a free-for-all. 

Dishes flew across the table as they were summoned. Tonks was entertaining the younger residents by changing her hair and nose every few minutes. Fred and George had found a spell to make the cooked chicken dance from plate to plate, inciting even louder laughter from the group than Tonks did. Moody was grumbling about kids unfit to be in the Order, and Kingsley Shacklebolt was failing to hide his chuckles behind a large, dragon-hide bound book of defensive magic. 

In the far corner, Daphne and Marcus, who both still proudly wore Slytherin robes even though most of their housemates supported Voldemort, frowned at the antics of the their peers. Neville always felt like they were plotting something, even though he knew they were helping the Order.

"Fred! George! _Stop that_ and eat your dinner!" Mrs. Weasley's voice could be heard over all of it.

Neville reached across the table for a dinner roll, only to have the bread basket swept from beneath his hand by someone's summoning charm. At the far end of the room, Mundungus reached a grubby hand into the basket, and Neville decided he didn't want a roll anyway.

Harry, who always sat next to him, leaned close. "Did you want some bread?" 

"No, not really," Neville said in his soft, timid voice. 

"Look at you two!" Ginny chirped, and Neville would have thought that she'd appeared out of thin air except that he hadn't heard the crack of Apparition. "Whispering like lovers," she finished in a low, sing-song voice. She drew out the first syllable of lovers, making Neville blush.

"You know it's not like that, Ginny," Harry said irritably. "Why don't you go hang on Dean some more?"

Ginny pouted. "Dean and I broke up ages ago, you know that."

"I never would have guessed, considering how much time you spend with him."

"What do you care, anyway? You're _gay_." 

This wasn't going well at all. Ginny and Harry were both getting defensive. Neville leaned back a bit, away from the two of them.

Ron chose that moment to turn around and come to Harry's defense. "Leaf'im ullone, Gin," he said through a mouthful of food. 

Neville grimaced, and Ron swallowed.

"Ron, that's disgusting," Ginny said with a snort that was almost a laugh.

"It really is," Hermione chimed in from the other side of Ron. She leaned forward to scoop more potatoes onto her plate, avoiding looking at Ron. "And Harry can date who he likes without us interfering, I'm sure."

Ron snorted. "What you mean is, he can date _Neville_ because he's our friend already. If it were someone _else_ you wouldn't be saying that."

Neville blushed a deep red.

"I would not!" Hermione protested.

"You _would_. What if he chose someone like... like a _Slytherin_?" 

While Hermione, Ron and Ginny continued to argue over who Harry was allowed to date, Harry leaned close and whispered a bit too loudly, "Ignore Ginny, she's jealous." He winked in a way that made Neville redden again.

"I'm not _jealous_ of Neville!" Ginny placed her hands on her hips, as if insulted, but she was smiling. "You can shag him all you like, I _don't care_." 

Neville blushed terribly again. He turned away to bury his face in his hands.

"I don't want to hear about what Harry does with blokes!" Ron said quickly, and Ginny laughed.

"We're not together," Harry insisted again.

Neville thought that was the problem. They liked each other; everyone around them could tell, and Harry wouldn't do anything about it. Whenever Neville brought it up, Harry would smile sadly, say, _I can't right now_ , and change the subject.

Harry reached for Neville's hand under the table and gave it a quick squeeze before getting up. Ron stuffed a potato in his mouth, then followed. When they were both gone, Ginny took Harry's seat.

"Has he asked you yet?" Ginny asked Neville hopefully.

"Asked me what?" Neville replied, feeling rather stupid. The way Ginny asked made him feel like he should know.

Ginny sighed. "Nothing, then. Never mind."

Neville looked down at his dinner, feeling like he was missing something terribly important.

The chicken, which was now missing both wings and a chunk from its left side, did a backflip over Neville's plate, and Neville looked up in time to see Angelina and Katie stand and high-five each other over Fred and George's heads.

\---

Neville really wanted to talk to Harry, to ask what Ginny was talking about, but Harry left with Lupin that night for some important mission that he wouldn't tell anyone about. All he said before he left was, _don't worry_ , to the group of people who had gathered in the entrance hall when they heard that he was leaving. Neville had stayed in the back of the group, and he didn't think Harry had even seen him.

So, he _didn't worry_ by distracting himself with his plants.

For two days, he _didn't worry_ more and more until he couldn't help but think something horrible was happening to Harry. 

And then he was back as suddenly as he'd left.

\---

Neville's plants sat in a row of mismatched pots lining the wall in the bedroom he'd been given in Grimmauld Place. He watered them, fertilized the ones that needed it, turned the soil for the Leaping Toadstool, and added nutrients to the pot of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia.

It was a daily routine, and had become very menial, but Neville still cared for his plants. They gave the room a bit of life and color, he thought. Merlin knew they could all use it in such desperate times.

Neville shared this room with Ernie Macmillan and Dean Thomas, but they both paid little attention to him. Ernie spent most of his time in the library helping Hermione, and Dean had become more and more withdrawn as the war went on. 

So, Neville was alone again. 

Well, not alone. He had his plants. And the asphodel needed attention, he realized, poking at leaves that were just beginning to brown on the underside.

Neville picked up the pot and left the room, looking for a window in which he could leave it. He had to isolate it from the others until he figured out what was wrong. He went from room to room, but Grimmauld Place had become crowded with people helping. Fighting. Taking risk after stupid risk to stop Voldemort.

_I'm one of those people_ , Neville reminded himself again, then he pushed the thoughts aside. If he thought about such things too much he began to lose the Gryffindor courage and will to protect his friends that kept him fighting.

Besides, the asphodel needed him right now.

Neville ended up in the drawing room, a dreary room, but at least it wasn't one that was constantly occupied. He placed the plant on the desk in front of the window. "You'll be okay there," he told it, then cast a spell he hoped would lead him to the source of the mysterious illness. 

"Do you always talk to your plants, Nev?" came a familiar voice from behind him.

"Harry!" 

Neville turned to greet his friend, and Harry pulled him into a friendly hug. 

"Where have you _been_?" Neville asked when they pulled away.

Harry gave him an apologetic look. "You know I can't tell you that." There was a short, disappointed silence before Harry changed the subject. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, um, sometimes. It's silly, I guess. The asphodel seems to have an infection of some sort, though, I was..." I was comforting it. "trying to figure out how to help it."

Harry's lips twitched into what passed for a smile now on his face. One corner of his mouth raised and his lips parted slightly, and it never ever reached his eyes. Neville attempted to smile back, but the result was just as weak. Slowly, Harry raised a hand to touch Neville's cheek. Neville wanted to pull away, but he couldn't. He looked into Harry's too-green eyes, and he wished, not for the first time, that they wouldn't act like this; that each time they ran into each other didn't turn into a short, almost-romantic moment that would never amount to—

Harry leaned close and kissed him hard on the lips, and Neville's eyes widened in surprise. 

Before he could kiss Harry back properly, the door to the drawing room flew open and Hermione's desperate voice interrupted. "Harry, we need—oh, sorry..."

"It's fine." Harry pulled away from Neville with an almost apologetic look, and turned to follow Hermione. Before he left, and without looking at Neville, he said, "I may need everyone to fight again soon."

And Neville was alone once more.

\---

Harry didn't get everyone together to fight again. Voldemort fell in a surprise battle, and there wasn't time to rally everyone to fight. As the whole wizarding world had expected, Harry Potter was a hero.

Harry, Ron, Tonks, and Lupin, the only people there to witness it, returned to Grimmauld Place the following morning, shaken and weary.

"There were Inferi," Tonks explained in a low, quivering voice. "And Death Eaters, but only a few. They were easy to take out after Volde... Vol... _He_ fell, but the _Inferi_..." 

Lupin stood behind her, one hand resting protectively on her shoulder. He looked so tired.

Ron disappeared into the room he shared with Harry, and would only speak to Hermione. 

Harry was the worst. He slammed doors and taunted Mrs. Black's portrait. He was irritable, and short with everyone, and no one was sure why he was so frustrated. Shouldn't he be glad it was over, or relieved that most of the people he cared about were safe?

Neville felt he should go back home to Gran now that the fighting was done, but he was reluctant to leave what had become one of the few safe places in England during the war. (Also, he wanted to make sure Harry was okay, and find out what that kiss meant.)

But until Harry calmed a bit, Neville thought it was better to stay out of the way, and occupied himself with caring for the plants.

\---

The asphodel was doing much better. The lack of sunlight in Grimmauld Place had weakened it for an infection, but Neville was nursing it back to health. He was making soft cooing noises of approval to it when Harry entered the drawing room. 

"Does talking to it make you feel like you have friends?"

Neville's face flushed, though he wasn't sure if it was because Harry's words hurt or because they were almost true. He tried to speak, and after a few false starts Neville managed, "That... that was cruel, Harry." He kept his gaze locked on the asphodel.

Harry grabbed Neville's arm and pulled him close so he had to look at him. After an initial resistance, he leaned against Harry, and Harry wrapped an arm possessively around his waist. 

"You're right. It was cruel." 

Neville looked up, and Harry took the opportunity to kiss him roughly. Neville made a small noise of protest against his lips, but gave in easily as Harry's mouth moved against his. He lifted his arms over Harry's shoulders and tilted his head, allowing Harry control.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Neville had imagined something a bit more romantic, though. Harry was kind and understanding, wasn't he? This demanding, forceful Harry wasn't... it just wasn't _Harry_.

Harry's tongue was in his mouth, rolling against his. He let out a soft sound of approval, and Harry pushed further. He slipped a hand beneath Neville's robes, and toyed with the bottom of his shirt.

"What do you want, Neville?"

Neville blushed. "This." He kissed Harry again, sliding his tongue along Harry's lower lip.

Harry smiled, and lowered his hand to squeeze Neville's half-hard cock through his pants. "This."

"N-no. Harry..." Neville didn't know what to say to that. Yes, but not here, in a dreary, dusty room of a house neither of them even liked; not now, when they'd only kissed twice. This wasn't a relationship... was it?

"Why not?" Harry paused. "Is it because you haven't before?"

"I'm not afraid to, if that's what you're implying," Neville replied, voice shaking slightly.

Harry kissed his neck and squeezed again. "Relax, Nev."

Neville shook his head no, but allowed Harry to push him toward the couch anyway. Harry pushed on his shoulder, and Neville obediently sat. The old couch creaked under the sudden weight. He climbed on top of Neville, ground their hips together, and Neville didn't think he'd ever felt so vulnerable.

"Harry, can we, um. Slow down?"

Harry kissed him roughly again. "You don't really want that."

"I... I think I do."

This wasn't _right_. Neville reached for his wand. When Harry realized what he was trying to do, he pointed his own wand at Neville's, and sent it flying across the room, out of Neville's reach.

"I don't understand, Longbottom! I thought you wanted me." Harry ground his hips into Neville's again, as if accenting his point.

"I wanted a _relationship_ with you, not... not whatever _this_ is!"

Neville struggled against Harry. He rolled over, and both of them fell off the edge of the couch to the floor. There was a sharp pain in his elbow, but it receded quickly.

"Fuck, Neville."

"No, I—" Neville stopped when he saw that Harry's lip was bleeding. "I'm sorry," he said, but he wasn't really.

"Macmillan's probably a better shag than you, anyway," Harry said cruelly.

Neville got up quickly and grabbed his asphodel plant, while Harry stared at him from the floor. For the first time since he'd gotten home, Harry didn't look angry. He just looked like a lost boy. 

"I'm sorry," Neville said again before leaving; and he almost _meant_ it that time.

\---

Neville left Grimmauld Place the next day, without saying good-bye to his roommates or the Weasleys or Harry or _anyone_. He didn't want to make a big deal of it.

Gran was happy to see him, which Neville supposed surprised him more than it should have. They were family, after all, and he'd been off fighting Death Eaters. She greeted him with something akin to a smile, and escorted him to his old bedroom.

Aunt Enid and Uncle Algie joined them for dinner, and everyone carefully avoided the subject of the war. It was obvious Neville didn't want to talk about it, or his time at Grimmauld Place, and the others had read all about the battles in the _Daily Prophet_ anyway. 

They spoke of safe things. They asked if Neville had a girlfriend yet. He just blushed and shook his head. Gran had joined the Association for the Fair Treatment of Magical Creatures, which had started because of a recent goblin rebellion at Gringotts. Aunt Enid had made Uncle Algie stop drinking, and he'd since found a hobby in building huts for the garden gnomes.

"But you don't really _want_ gnomes in the garden, do you, Aunt Enid?" Neville asked.

"I'm too old for gardening now," she said dismissively. "Hurts my back."

"Oh." Neville looked out the window, but he couldn't see the garden from the dining room. 

\---

There were weeds everywhere, overgrown annoyances choking what was left of the garden Neville had left in his Aunt's care. There were small, misshapen wooden huts strewn about. Something scurried over Neville's feet. He looked down in time to see a gnome disappear into one of them. Neville sighed, then dropped to his knees and began pulling the weeds. 

The garden needed far more work than Neville initially thought. There was little salvageable, and the soil was unfertilized, packed too tight, and lacking in essential nutrients. The garden gnomes and general neglect had completely countered all of the work Neville had put into it.

After two weeks, a lot of work, and several failed attempts to get rid of the gnomes, Neville was becoming frustrated. He kicked the nearest hut, hurt his toe, and yelled something incoherent as a gnome ran away from him.

He needed to make a trip to Hogsmeade.

\---

Hugh Greene's Magical Nursery sat on the edge of Hogsmeade farthest from Hogwarts. Most of the students didn't look twice at it, with the exception of the occasional bloke looking for flowers to impress a girl. From the front it looked rather run-down, but in the back there was a large greenhouse full of magical and mundane plants. There were common useful plants, experimental cross-breeds, and some of the rarest plants in the world. Neville has spent most of his Hogsmeade weekends when he was in school in that nursery, asking Mr. Greene all about them.

Neville hadn't been there in nearly a year now. He'd been too busy helping Harry. Still, as he approached the building a feeling of familiarity overcame him. The shop looked the same, and Mr. Greene looked as busy as ever taking care of all the plants. 

After standing in the doorway for a moment, Neville called, "Mr. Greene?" 

The old man turned, and a friendly smile spread across his face. "Mr. Longbottom, it's been too long." His voice was soft and confident, wise in his age. 

Neville smiled back and shook his hand. "I need loam and minerals for soil. I've been away from home for a long time, and my garden... well, it's not much of a garden anymore," Neville admitted.

"Ah, yes, I've seen your name in the _Prophet_. You've been helping young Mr. Potter."

Neville stiffened at the name.

"It's understandable that you've been too busy for Herbology," Mr. Greene continued. "Though a shame, really. It's been a long time since I saw a young man as good with plants as you are."

Neville blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thanks. I'm getting back to it. And I've kept a few plants. I still have my Mimbulus Mimbletonia, and some asphodel..." Neville trailed off. Mr. Greene regarded him with a patient expression.

"Such things require practice."

"I know. I've been... distracted," Neville said softly.

The old man nodded, then helped Neville find what he needed.

\---

"It's frustrating, Mum. It seems so _pointless_. The gnomes are just going to come mess it up again."

Alice Longbottom stared blankly at her son, and Neville sighed. "I suppose, it just doesn't seem worth the effort. Before... during... while I was at Grimmauld Place, I was doing _useful_ things. I was helping Ha—helping." 

He looked helplessly at his parents. Frank kept tugging on his sleeves, and every once in a while he'd lift his wrist to his mouth and chew on the fabric. Each time he did, Neville would patiently pull his Dad's hands back down into his lap. 

They really weren't helping matters. 

"I just don't know what to do now," Neville admitted. "I don't think I even have my friends anymore. The only person I've heard from since... since _then_ is Luna."

_I shouldn't have left so quickly. I could have worked things out with.... No, this is... better._

Neville shook his head and looked down at his hands. "All of that was four months ago now. It doesn't seem that long. But it seems like everyone's moved on already..." He looked up, and attempted to smile. "Ron and Hermione are getting married. I just got an invitation to their wedding yesterday. And I read in Wizard Culture that Dean Thomas has some paintings in a new gallery that's opening next month. I, um. I might go. See if..." _If we're still friends?_ "See how he's been."

Alice cocked her head to the side in a way that would look interested if her expression wasn't so vacant.

"And Ha-Harry... he's an Auror now. The youngest ever. There was a ceremony at the Ministry for it a few weeks ago, but I didn't... I didn't want..." _to see him again yet. It still hurts sometimes, the way I lost him even though it's been nearly three months since I left._

Frank was drooling now, and Alice was looking over his shoulder at the Healer passing out dinner trays. 

Neville glanced at his watch, as if he had somewhere to be. "I should go," he said softly. He got up too quickly and knocked his chair over. He righted it, smiled sheepishly at the Healer, and avoided eye contact with everyone he passed as he left St. Mungo's.

\---

The art gallery was in a Muggle town, in a wide building set back from the main road. There was a row of bright, abstract sculptures along the sidewalk leading up to the main doors, and Neville shied away from them, almost afraid he'd knock into one and break it.

It was crowded with Muggles and wizards in nice Muggle clothes. Neville felt under-dressed in his plain pants and button-down shirt. He should have put on a tie. And did brown and green match? He hoped so.

He was relieved when he saw a familiar face. "Ernie!" 

Ernie Macmillan turned and smiled at Neville. "Hi! It's been a while." He held out his hand, and Neville shook it amicably.

"Yeah. So... how have you been?" 

"Good! Good," Ernie said in a fake sort of way. "Got a job with the Ministry, hooked up with a few guys, have a nice flat in London..." 

It sounded to Neville like this was just something he recited for anyone who asked. 

"Oh, that sounds. Good."

"Yeah, it is." Ernie smiled. "What about you, Nev?" 

Ernie made it sound so casual, as if they'd been friends for the longest time. Neville winced at the nickname, one that only Harry had ever used with him before.

"I've been... gardening," Neville said, and winced slightly at how lame that sounded.

"That's good then, you always liked Herbology. Helped me out a few times in Hogwarts, too." 

"Yeah..." Neville shifted uncomfortably. 

He looked at the wall instead of at Ernie. There were surreal paintings by someone named Kristen Kinn, detailed pieces of imagery building itself up on the canvases. Neville didn't think he'd ever understand this art stuff.

"Did you ever get with another guy?" Ernie asked suddenly, interrupting Neville's thoughts. 

"Um... what?"

"After Harry, I mean," Ernie said, as if that clarified things.

"I, um... Harry and I never... yeah." Neville blushed.

"Oh, come on, Nev. We all knew you two had a _thing_." Ernie smiled mischievously, a look Neville found really disconcerting on a Hufflepuff.

"Nothing happened between us," Neville said softly. "Um. We kissed once."

Ernie seemed to put something together in his mind, probably based on rumors. "Oh. Well, we all thought you two were finally together, and then you left Grimmauld Place so suddenly. We all thought something had happened between you two. And Harry wouldn't say anything about it." Ernie laughed, and it sounded too loud in Neville's ears. "Hermione yelled at him for chasing you away, and there was nothing between you two to begin with."

Neville attempted to laugh too. "I've never really heard Hermione yell, except for once during fourth year."

"I know. Even Ron was surprised. But, that was ages ago, right? You're single now, that counts for something." Ernie moved closer and placed a hand on Neville's arm.

Neville blinked stupidly. Ernie couldn't be implying what he thought he was.

"Want a drink? They've got this great Muggle alcohol. Margaritas." Ernie leaned close as if it were some sort of secret.

"Um, sure," Neville said, trying not to blush.

"I'll be right back." Ernie winked and disappeared into the crowd. 

Neville wandered deeper into the gallery, and found Dean easily. He was wearing bright colors, and standing in front of paintings that depicted magic in an abstract way. Neville recognized spells and potions, battles and events that they had all been a part of months and years before. Things that would look like fantasy to Muggles were all too real to the wizards in the room. 

Dean greeted Neville with a friendly hug. Neville pulled away a bit too quickly and pointed to something that looked like Inferi attacking a hunched figure.

"What is this, Dean?" he asked, voice shaking slightly.

Dean frowned. "The Muggle critics commend me for showing social commentary and war in such a—how did they word it? _In a grotesque and fantastical way_." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Don't know what they'd do if they knew it was real."

There was a long pause while Neville took in the images, things he didn't want to relive. "Why do you... do you..."

"It helps me deal with what happened. Like, if I can share it, it's not just in my head, eating at me anymore. I know the imagery isn't really pleasant." 

Neville nodded. He couldn't stop looking at the paintings. Finally, Dean grabbed his arm and swung him around so he wasn't facing the wall anymore.

"How have you been, Neville?" he asked. "Have you been able to... to move on?"

Neville looked at the floor. "I don't know." 

"I'm sorry." 

Ernie's voice interrupted then. "Neville, what's wrong?" 

Neville looked up, and Ernie handed him a drink. "Nothing. I'm fine." 

But both Dean and Ernie looked worried.

\---

Venomous Tentacula. 

Neville grabbed another garden gnome, swung it over his head, and tossed it as far as he could into the woods on the edge of the Longbottom property. 

Venomous Tentacula should scare the gnomes away, right? He owled Mr. Greene that afternoon.

\---

Mr. Greene greeted Neville warmly. "Ah, Mr. Longbottom, I got it in yesterday. I'll just be one moment." He smiled, and held up one knobby finger to ask for Neville's patience.

"Okay." Neville occupied himself by examining the Mandrakes.

Several minutes later a worried-looking woman wandered into the shop. She looked around, and saw Neville fussing with the Mandrakes. The clicking of her heals on the wooden floor alerted Neville that she was approaching him.

"Hello," she said.

"Um, hi," Neville replied curiously.

"There's something wrong with my fanged geranium," she said worriedly, holding the potted plant out to him so the leaves brushed his nose. "It won't eat."

It did look rather small, and the leaves were drooping. Neville took a step away from her.

"Oh, um. I don't... Mr. Greene will be right..." She looked disappointed, and Neville stopped. "Well, I can look at it, if you want."

She handed him the pot with a hopeful smile, and Neville set it on the nearest empty table. He checked the coloring, the undersides of the leaves, and the soil. The petals around the fangs separated, revealing a mouth-like opening in the center. The plant nipped at him, protesting at the prodding, but it didn't try to hurt him, which Neville thought was strange.

"Do you water it every day?"

"Yes."

"Do you live near here?"

"Yes." 

"It's been a wet spring," Neville said. "And too much water, either on the plant or in the air, can leave it more vulnerable to infection."

Mr. Greene joined them. Neville began to back away from the plant, but Mr. Greene gestured with a flick of his hand for Neville to continue. He watched interestedly as the younger man leaned over the plant again.

The geranium opened its mouth-like petals again, and Neville took the opportunity to shove his finger in the opening. He separated the petals, and after a moment, the geranium stopped nipping at his fingers. 

"Its here," he said, pointing to a small discoloration behind the fangs. "There's, um. There's a healing potion to help that, but it will take a few weeks to get better, and if you've got any other plants, you should keep this one as far away from them as possible in the meantime."

He looked up at Mr. Greene, who nodded approvingly.

"Yes. I'll go get that for you, Miss Jacobs." Mr. Greene motioned for Neville to follow, and he obliged.

"Have you worked with fanged geraniums before?" he asked nonchalantly, as if it were a question he asked all his customers.

"Yes sir, once," Neville said nervously. Maybe he'd overstepped his boundaries. After all, it wasn't his shop.

Mr. Greene nodded thoughtfully. "Your talents are wasted if you don’t share them." 

Neville didn't know what to say to that, and ended up sputtering incoherently.

"You act surprised. It is rare that someone so young is as knowledgeable and experienced in this subject as you are. Kids usually don’t have the patience for it."

"Th-thank you, Sir," Neville managed.

"And I am growing old. I could use some help around here."

"And... and you want... me?" Neville's eyes widened. After a moment, he felt silly. He shouldn't be so surprised. Mr. Greene smiled, and Neville re-composed himself into something more respectable.

"Yes. Mind you, it won't be easy work. I do a lot of researching, and each plant needs specific care."

"Of course," Neville said. 

Mr. Greene continued talking, and Neville stood there, with a goofy grin on his face, and nodding at what seemed to be appropriate places. He was only half-paying attention though. Mostly, he was flattered that Mr. Greene thought so highly of him.

\---

Neville planted a Venomous Tentacula on each side of the garden and removed the gnome huts. He hoped Uncle Algie wouldn't mind too much.

He was working with the wormwood when an unfamiliar barn owl landed on his head. Neville waved his arms, knocking it away, and it flew to the ground in front of him and held out its leg expectantly. Neville carefully untied the roll of parchment.

_Hi Nev,  
Would you be free for a drink at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow night? I think we could both use the company.  
Ernie_

Neville looked down at the owl. The owl looked up at him interestedly.

"Right."

Neville re-read the letter. Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? He summoned a quill and scribbled, _I'll be there_ on the back of the parchment. 

\---

Neville walked as casually as he could into the Three Broomsticks, but he was nervous. Was this a date? He wasn't sure, but he'd dressed in nice robes anyway.

Neville paused just inside the Three Broomsticks to look around. It was a bit too crowded for his liking, but he spotted Ernie easily enough. He smoothed his robes—the nicest set he had short of the dress robes he'd recently bought for Ron and Hermione's wedding—and walked as casually as he could to the table Ernie had chosen in the back of the room, trying not to show how nervous he was.

"Hi Nev," Ernie said, smiling widely.

Neville sat across from him, and gave him a shy smile in return. "Hi."

Ernie pushed a bottle of butterbeer across the table, and Neville took it with a soft, "Thank you."

"What have you been doing?" Ernie asked conversationally. "I mean, anything new since Dean's show?"

Neville started to shake his head, then remembered that there was something. "I've been hired to work at a magical nursery," he said. "With Hugh Greene. He's well-known in among Herbologists for working with rare and difficult plants." 

"That sounds great," Ernie said, and he looked genuinely happy for Neville. "It's something you really want, right?"

"Yes, it is. Um. Mr. Greene hires assistants rarely, so this is... it's good." Neville smiled proudly.

"I'm glad things are coming together for you, then. Last time I saw you, I... well, I was worried." Ernie looked meaningfully across the table at Neville. 

"I'm fine," Neville said quickly. "I was just... the war. And Dean's paintings..." He trailed off, not quite sure what to say about them.

"I know, he didn't exactly warn us about that," Ernie replied. He reached over and touched Neville's fingers. "It's hard, sometimes."

Neville nodded, but his attention was more on Ernie's hand, slowly reaching over his, than on the conversation. He hated talking about things like this anyway. Finally, Ernie clasped Neville's hand and gave it a squeeze. Neville pulled away, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands in his lap.

'What's wrong?" Ernie looked concerned.

"Um, nothing. Can we, um. Slow. Yeah." Neville blushed, not sure if that really made sense.

"Slow?"

"I mean, I don't really want... a... I mean. I thought you just wanted to talk?"

"Well, I was looking for some company, is all." Ernie got that mischievous smile again, and Neville felt distinctly uncomfortable.

"Yeah. Um. I don't think...I mean, you're _nice and all, but..."_

"Actually, I always thought you were cute, but I thought you were with Harry. I would've asked you out a long time ago if I knew..." 

"No, Harry and I... um." Neville blushed. What had happened between Harry and him didn't matter anymore. "I can't. I should go, actually."

He got up, but Ernie grabbed his arm. "What _happened_ to you? You've been avoiding everyone," he said worriedly.

"Nothing... um. Nothing." Neville pulled away. He placed a few sickles on the table for the butterbeer. "Thanks, but I have to go," he said again.

Before Ernie could protest, Neville rushed out of the tavern.

\---

The following morning's _Daily Prophet_ proclaimed that illegal plants were found in England, and anyone with information should report to Harry Potter in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. Though the idea of new plants to study intrigued Neville, even illegal ones, it wasn't enough incentive to actually get him to speak to Harry. He didn't have any information to offer anyway, just curiosity.

Almost every day, Neville heard something about bloody Harry Potter or the war. All he wanted was to forget, to move on. 

"The Leaping Toadstools seem to have leapt into the Muggle herbs last night," Mr. Green said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'd rather the Muggle plants we're not cross-breeding remain confined from the magical ones, so the toadstools need to be moved."

Though, his new job was a welcome distraction. Neville put down the newspaper. "Sure."

"And when you finish, I could use some help with the Devil's Snare experiment," Mr. Greene said. He smiled, knowing that Neville had been looking forward to that.

"Thanks," Neville said eagerly, then went to the greenhouse.

He found that the toadstools had planted themselves snugly between the basil and mint. He sighed, but he wasn’t about to complain about the work, especially if it meant getting to work with the Devil's Snare Mr. Greene kept in the basement. 

The first toadstool leapt away when Neville touched it, sending dirt flying, and planted itself just out of Neville's reach. Neville grabbed an empty flowerpot and dropped it over the little plant, trapping it so he could grab it. It seemed like the other toadstools around him had caught on to what was happening, though, and they scattered. 

Neville replanted the toadstool he had caught in a more confined place, behind a knee-high wall too high for it to leap over, then went to catch some more.

Neville heard the greenhouse door open, but he didn't look up. He knelt down on the floor and reached underneath the juniper bush for a toadstool, and predictably, it leapt away from his touch. A second set of hands reached down and snatched it from mid-air, and Neville turned so he could look at the new person.

"Hey Nev," Harry said. He tossed the toadstool, and caught it again, as if it were a Snitch.

"Harry." Neville stood and gently took the little plant from Harry, avoiding his eyes.

"So, this is where you've been all this time?" Harry asked, looking around.

Neville decided to ignore the question. He'd rather not get into what he'd been doing since he left Grimmauld Place, as it really was quite pathetic. "Wh-what can I help you with?" he asked, as if Harry were just another customer.

"I'm looking for Mr. Greene, actually. I'm here on Ministry business." Harry moved closer to Neville. "I have to admit, though, I wasn't expecting to see you here." He reached out and took Neville's hand. "How have you been?"

Neville pulled away from the touch. "I'm fine. I... I've got work to do." Neville turned and placed the toadstool behind the short wall with the others. "I'll get Mr. Greene for you."

He left Harry standing in the greenhouse and went to the basement. His head was spinning with all the things he wanted to say to Harry, all the emotions he'd kept pent up over the past several months. 

The basement housed all of the plants that required dark places to grow, and the Devil's Snare had its own room. Neville opened the door slowly, and found Mr. Greene patiently trimming the vines. 

"There's someone from the Ministry here to see you," Neville said softly.

Mr. Greene frowned and wiped his hands on his apron. "I'll be up in a moment. Have you finished with the toadstools?"

"No. I'll go do that."

As Neville ascended the stairs again, he wondered what he would even say to Harry. There were so many things he could talk about, but none of them seemed appropriate after all this time.

Maybe he wouldn't have to say anything. Maybe Harry didn't want to dwell on what happened at all.

Harry was where Neville had left him, leaning over the Leaping Toadstools. 

"Mr. Greene will be up shortly." It sounded too formal, even to Neville's ears.

Harry stood up. "I was just thinking..." He paused, and didn't pick up the sentence again.

"...What?" Neville asked after a moment, not sure he really wanted to know.

"Just, that I missed you." 

Harry looked sincere, and it _hurt_ somewhere inside of Neville. Neville shook his head, but before he had to respond, Mr. Greene entered the greenhouse. 

"Can I help you?"

Harry turned his attention to the other man, and Neville slowly resumed his work with the toadstools. After a few minutes, though, Harry interrupted him again.

"Mr. Greene said you'll be more help with this than he will." 

Neville suppressed the urge to say _no, he was too busy to deal with Harry_. "Um, what do you need?"

Harry laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. "I could use a lot of things from you, Neville, and there was a time when I was just waiting for you to offer."

Neville winced, shying away from the implications in Harry's response. "You know what I mean," he said softly.

"Yeah." Harry leaned against the nearest table. "Someone has been breeding illegal plants in England. This morning, in one of the dullest assignments I've gotten yet, Flint and I captured the idiot doing it, and he's sitting in Azkaban now waiting for his trial."

"What do you need me for?" Neville shifted uncomfortably. He used to take pride in helping Harry Potter, but now he'd rather be anywhere else.

"We thought the plants were Screeching Magnolias, which are worse than Mandrakes, and Slithering Snakeroot, which is the—"

"The most toxic magical plant, as far as we know," Neville finished. "I know what they are."

"Right. Anyway, he did something to them, and we can't get near them. We need someone who can analyze the plants and get rid of them in a safe way."

"Did you try burning them?" Neville asked, as if that were the obvious solution.

"Yeah, they started screeching and gave off some toxic gas that knocked Flint unconscious. Serves him right, actually, the git. I told them, I hate working with Slytherins."

Neville didn't answer right away. He was taken aback by the way Harry was talking. Neville had always thought of Harry as the Hero, and now he was acting like an arrogant prat. This wasn't the same guy he'd almost fallen in love with.

"Um. Slytherins aren't... I mean. Daphne and Marcus helped us, remember? They even stayed at Grimmauld Place near the end."

Harry didn't respond immediately, He focused on a spot over Neville's shoulder. "That doesn't mean I trust them."

Neville wasn't sure what to say to that, so he changed the topic. "Can you take me to the plants?"

\---

Harry brought Neville to the Ministry headquarters in London. Neville followed him into the supervising Auror's office, and was pleased to see Kingsley Shacklebolt behind the desk. He waved in greeting.

Shacklebolt nodded. "Mr. Longbottom," he greeted formally.

"Hello."

"I need a pass for Neville to work the Herbology case with me, and clearance for him to enter the Lineman estate," Harry interrupted.

Shacklebolt rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands beneath his chin. "You were supposed to get Hugh Greene to help with this case."

"He provided me with Neville Longbottom instead, insisting he'd be sufficient for the job."

Neville took offense to being talked about like he was an object, especially when he was in the same room, but he didn't say anything.

Shacklebolt made a noise of annoyance. "Clearance granted." 

He waved his wand in Neville's direction. Neville felt a tingling sensation run through his body. It only lasted a moment, but he let out a surprised gasp.

"That's a charm that will let you through the wards," Shacklebolt explained. He returned his attention to Harry. "Remember to turn in the paperwork tonight, Potter." 

Harry's lips twitched into a snarl. "I hate the paperwork," he said petulantly.

"We all do, but it needs to be done." 

Shacklebolt looked him straight in the eye, as if challenging Harry to protest further. Harry stared back, a cold look in what used to be friendly-looking green eyes. Neville stepped back, almost afraid this standoff would take a turn for the worse. But Harry's wand stayed in his robes, and after a moment he simply turned away, motioning for Neville to follow.

"We'll go to the site after lunch," Harry said to him. "I'm meeting Hermione and Ron in Diagon Alley. You're welcome to join."

Tonks walked by them then. "Hey, Neville! I heard you're working in Hogsmeade now. What are you doing in London?" She hesitated for a beat, looked at Harry, then, before Neville could answer, continued. "Oh! Are you working on the Herbology case?" 

"Yeah," Neville replied. "I'm helping… um. Helping Harry." Something he didn't think he'd be saying again.

"That's brilliant, I'll see you around then!" She took a few steps backward, stumbled on a trash bin, and laughed. "Oops!" 

Harry scowled. 

"What's wrong?" Neville asked, though he wasn't particularly concerned. Harry just seemed irritable overall today.

"Nothing."

Harry continued walking, and disappeared into a nearby office. Neville waited in the doorway while Harry pulled a small bag of coins from his desk. 

Two other desks occupied the room. Marcus Flint sat behind one, and Hestia Jones, an Auror Neville remembered helped fight the battles, sat behind the other. Marcus looked up, and Neville waved.

"Found yourself a new partner, Potter?" Marcus asked, his voice laced with contempt.

Harry pointedly ignored him.

"That's really mature, you know. You'll have to speak to me at some point."

"Will you two just stop?" Hestia interrupted. "Whatever sort of rivalry the two of you have going on here is pointless."

"Stay out of it," Harry snapped. He stalked back across the office, and pushed past Neville. "Let's go."

\---

Ron and Hermione were sitting in a booth near the door of the cafe, and Hermione spotted Harry and Neville immediately.

"Hi Harry, and _Neville_ , we weren't expecting you!" 

Hermione waved, smiling brightly. Next to her, Ron was frowning over an image in a catalogue showing a pastel, flowery wedding chapel and a twirling bride.

"He's helping me with the Herbology case," Harry explained. 

"You're helping the Aurors," Hermione said to Neville, and there was surprise in her voice. 

"Yeah, it's… I don't usually do this sort of thing," Neville replied.

"Well, it's good to see you. I was almost worried we wouldn't until the wedding." 

"I don't know, Hermione, it's all very… pink," Ron said suddenly.

"Well, what color flowers do you want, Ron?" Hermione asked, and there was exasperation in her voice. 

"I don't know… you'll look good next to any color," Ron said with a somewhat defeated tone.

Hermione giggled in what Neville thought was a very un-Hermione-like way. Ron leaned over and kissed her, and Neville felt very happy for them. 

Harry cleared his throat loudly, and all three of them looked at him. 

"Can we order? I need to get back to work soon."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a Look. Neville sat and picked up a menu from the center of the table.

"How has work been, Harry?" Ron asked conversationally. 

"Dull. They give me the worst assignments because I'm new. And they keep pairing me up with Flint."

"He's a good Auror, though," Hermione pointed out. 

"I don't trust him."

"You're stubborn," Hermione accused.

"I'm _realistic_ ," Harry shot back. "We don't know what people like _him_ are plotting!"

"He's not— _none_ of the Slytherins are plotting _anything_ ," Hermione insisted. "I work with Tracy Davis now, actually. We're becoming friends. She'll be at the wedding."

Harry didn't bother hiding his look of disgust.

Neville buried his face in his menu, pointedly staying out of this argument. This would be a long lunch.

\---

The Lineman estate looked tiny from the entrance gate, but when Harry led Neville through the house and down the stairs, Neville discovered that it extended far underground. 

The rooms were lit magically. Each seemed older than the last, leading eventually what looked like old catacombs. They were cool, and smelled of something rotting, and Neville didn't like it. Strange plants, experiments, lined the walls, some of them wilting already now that their caretaker was gone.

Finally, they stopped. Harry handed Neville a pair of earmuffs and opened a door. 

Neville stepped cautiously into the room, and almost immediately the plants came to life at the intrusion. Even through the earmuffs, Neville could hear a distant-sounding whining, and he knew that if he took them off the noise would be unbearable. 

The plants themselves, Neville quickly realized, were a hybrid of the two plants Harry had mentioned. He could recognize the flowers of the Screeching Magnolia, and the unique, twisting features of the Slithering Snakeroot. The plant writhed as it screamed, a grotesque movement that made it seem almost sentient.

A plant near Neville coiled suddenly, and Neville recognized the movement. He grabbed Harry's arm and Apparated them both outside.

"Why did you do that?" Harry demanded, and Neville thought he sounded far too angry about it for the circumstances.

"It was about to let off the toxin," Neville explained. "It's a magical hybrid of the Screeching Magnolias and the Slithering Snakeroot, and probably something else, because the leaves were an odd shade of violet at the tips. Which is worse than a normal hybrid, but more easily recognizable."

Neville almost expected Harry to thank him for getting them both out of there, but Harry just continued in an accusatory voice, "How did you know it was going to… to attack?" 

"Attack isn't really the word. It's a defense mechanism of the Snakeroot to let off the toxin when an animal likely to eat it gets to close. Basically, anything larger than a rat. It coils up, like a snake, which forces the receptacles that store the toxin to contract, then when it straightens out it excretes the toxin."

Harry waited a beat, apparently thinking, before asking, "How do you know so much about a plant that's illegal?"

Neville shrugged. "I just think this sort of thing is interesting."

"Right. Well, can you get rid of it?"

"Well, actually, if you get rid of whatever's lighting the chamber, and since they won't get water, and there won't be anyone to care for the plants, they'll just die out eventually…. But if you want it done faster I can make a potion that will kill it."

"I don't know if I trust you with potions," Harry said quickly, cruelly.

"I'm not too bad with them. I brew potions to kill weeds and help plants grow all the time," Neville said defensively. "The weed-killers only take a few hours, so this shouldn't take much longer."

"If you think it will work," Harry said noncommittally. 

"I can do it," Neville insisted. 

"Have it in two days. I'll meet you at Greene's again in the morning."

Harry Apparated away. Neville really didn't feel up to this task, but Harry needed him.

\---

_Dear Luna,  
I'm helping Harry again. I'm not sure what's going to happen with us, or if I even want anything to happen.  
-Neville_

_Neville Love!  
That's brilliant! What are you helping with?   
You and Harry would be fantastic together.  
-Luna_

_Luna,  
It's the Herbology case that's been in the Daily Prophet.  
I'm not sure. I told you what happened at Grimmauld Place, remember?  
-Neville_

_Neville Love,  
You'll be fantastic at it, I'm sure!  
Yes. But you know Harry cares about you anyway, right? He always has.  
-Luna_

\---

Neville stirred the mixture in the cauldron carefully, paying close attention to the way it was bubbling. He still didn't like brewing potions, even if he wasn't as bad at it now as he was with Snape in Hogwarts, _waiting_ for him to mess something up.

He'd brewed potions to help his plants countless times, but this was harder. He was being very careful about ingredients and measurements, trying to use things that wouldn't upset the hybrid too much. He needed something that would work quickly and thoroughly. 

He added the Acromantula venom slowly, letting three small drops fall into the cauldron. Then he left it to simmer, hoping it would be potent enough.

\---

Harry showed up later than he said he would, which only gave Neville more time to doubt himself. What if the potion didn't work? What if it actually _strengthened_ the toxin? Neville knew it was a possibility, though he was relatively certain that he hadn't messed up _that_ badly. If he'd messed up at all.

He spent much of the morning behind the counter, rolling the bottle in his hands, and helping the occasional customer. He tried to smile like usual, but it was forced. Normally he loved his job, but Harry's sudden reappearance in his life was making him tense.

So, when Harry finally stepped into the shop, Neville was deeply distracted by his own worrying.

"Is it ready?"

Neville looked up to find Harry standing in the doorway.

"Yes," Neville said uncertainly. He pulled a bottle of the potion from under the counter. 

Harry took the bottle, letting his fingers brush against Neville's. He looked down at it for a moment before speaking again.

"I've been thinking about what happened between us a lot lately, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." Harry looked up, and leaned over the short counter. "But I don't know how to ask you to forgive me."

Neville paused, shocked at the sudden confession. He glanced away. "I can't."

Harry leaned in and gave Neville a quick kiss on the cheek. Neville's eyes widened, and he froze. Harry sighed, disappointed at the lack of response. He turned around and headed for the door.

"I want things to go back to the way they were before," he said without looking back.

Neville wasn't as happy to see him leave as he knew he should have been.

\---

For _days_ after that little kiss, Neville couldn't stop thinking about Harry, about what that meant. He should have stopped him. Should have kissed him back. Should have done _something_ other than stand there stupidly and watch him leave.

Not that he wanted a relationship with Harry anymore. (Except, he sort of did.)

Why was this so complicated?

By the time Harry did show up again, a full week had passed and Neville had written exactly fourteen letters to him, and sent none. Each began with an apology; three ended with _love_ ; five had a confession; seven held accusations that were entirely true; one held accusations that weren't quite so true; eleven mentioned the kiss; twelve mentioned Grimmauld Place; and all of them had far too many questions.

Harry strode purposefully across the greenhouse, and stopped suddenly in front of Neville. He lifted his hands, as if he was going to hug him, or do something more than stare, but dropped them again after a moment. 

Neville put his trowel down. He'd been holding it for nearly an hour now, and in his distraction, had only managed to replant one asphodel sprout. The other nine would have to wait until after Harry left, he decided.

"Neville," Harry said finally.

"Um, hi," Neville replied awkwardly. 

"The potion worked." Harry didn't quite look at Neville when he spoke.

"That's good," Neville said, trying to catch Harry's eye.

"Yeah, it is." Harry put his hands in his pockets, shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, then took his hands out again. "So, um. I just wanted to let you know. I should go now. Things to do, you know."

Neville paused, and tried not to look too disappointed. "Yeah. Okay."

Harry turned around and began to walk toward the door. Neville clenched his fists. This wasn't how it always went in his mind. 

"Wait!" Harry paused, and Neville caught up easily. "You're welcome."

Harry looked confused for a moment, then his expression softened. "Thanks, is what I meant."

Neville waited for him to say more, but he didn't. "Is there… anything else?" he prompted.

Harry looked at him curiously. "I don't think so."

"Oh." Disappointed by Harry once again, Neville returned to the plants. He picked up his trowel and poked at the asphodel, trying to look like he was actually doing something, aware that Harry was watching him.

" _Is_ there something else?" Harry asked, and there was frustration in his voice. 

Neville stopped, turned. "Well, last week you said… um. You said that you… you want…" Neville bit his lip, finding it increasingly difficult to finish that thought. "Um. Never mind. I… I have work to do." He gestured to the asphodel.

Harry shrugged, shoved his hands in his pockets again, and left.

\---

Ernie owled, wanting to know how Neville was. If he was ready to try another date. Neville crumpled the parchment up angrily and glared at Ernie's owl. The owl hooted loudly, and took off without a response.

Neville didn't need Ernie, or Harry, or _anyone_. He decided to just bury his worries in his work. Mr. Greene needed him, and he had his own garden at home, as well.

(But why, _why_ then, couldn't he stop thinking about Harry?)

\---

Neville tapped his quill on his desk and stared at the parchment that, despite sitting in front of him for nearly half an hour, only had one word written on it:

_Harry,_

This really shouldn't be so difficult, Neville decided. If they still liked each other, they should at least give it a shot. And it was just dinner. And Harry probably won't even say yes.

He sighed. It was all so _complicated_.

Neville dipped his quill in the ink and added, _Would you like to join me for dinner Friday night?_ That sounded okay. Not too desperate, or too hopeful. He wondered if it sounded too much like a date. Before he could change his mind, he signed it, rolled it up, and gave it to his owl. "Harry lives in London," he told it. "Can you find him?"

The owl hooted twice, then took off into the night. 

\---

The response came while Neville was working, and he had to wait until he finished with the poisonous alihotsy before he could open the letter. He tried not to rush through his work, but he was eager to find Harry's response.

When he finished, he washed his hands and removed the protective charms that helped keep him safe from the poison. He unrolled the parchment and stared at it in disbelief for a moment.

_Sure, Neville. I know a perfect place. Meet me in Diagon Alley at six._

Neville's heart gave an involuntary leap, and he had to read the words twice before he believed them. 

\---

Harry chose a small restaurant on the edge of Diagon Alley that was owned by Zacharias Smith. The food was good, the atmosphere relaxed, and Neville found himself quite comfortable being there with Harry, even after the odd look Zach had given them when they came in together.

"I can't imagine working in a little gardening shop like that, it must be terribly boring," Harry confessed. He took a sip of butterbeer and eyed Neville warily.

"It's not boring at all," Neville insisted. "Mr. Greene is one of the top Herbologists in the country, and every day he's got interesting plants to work with."

"Still sounds dull," Harry said with a shrug.

Neville tightened his grip on his fork. "I think it's fascinating," he countered in a soft voice.

"Well, for _you_ , you're good at that sort of thing," Harry said dismissively, and Neville felt like he was saying, _Well, it's good enough for you, but I'm the savior of the wizarding world. I demand life to be more exciting._

Neville looked down at his barely-touched food. He'd imagined heartfelt apologies, tender words and gentle touches. They were supposed to talk and laugh over dinner, and end the night with a kiss that held promises of more. He imagined that Harry had grown up more than he actually had.

"You're lost, aren't you?" Neville whispered.

Harry stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth, lips parted. "What?"

"You're lost. Ever since Vol… Voldemort, since the battles ended and the Death Eaters caught, you've lost purpose." The more he spoke the more it all seemed to fall together. "So you're stuck on this obsession with being a hero. That's what everyone expected from you, and now you don't know how to be anything else. It's why you always seem so frustrated."

Harry looked surprised, and for a long moment, he didn't respond.

Neville glanced up nervously. "Harry?"

"Yeah, Nev, I…" He frowned. "No, I just want…" 

"What?"

Harry made a thick noise of annoyance in his throat and returned to his meal without answering. 

The rest of the meal passed too slowly. Both Neville and Harry tried to act amicable, but there was an underlying tension.

And Neville didn't get his good-night kiss, just a warm smile and a hug that didn't last long enough.

\---

_Neville,  
As it appears that you and Harry are finally together, I'm happy you have what you've wanted for so long. No hard feelings, right?  
Ernie_

Neville stared at the letter in disbelief. "I went on one date with him!" he said to Ernie's owl. "And that was hardly a date!" 

The owl hooted in protest, and sensing that it wasn't getting a response from Neville again, took off.

\---

It was nearly three weeks before he saw Harry again, at Hermione and Ron's wedding. Neville hadn't worked up the right sort of courage to contact him after that dinner.

Neville chose a seat at the ceremony as far away from both Harry and Ernie as possible. He ended up sitting with Dean, with whom he was able to have a comfortable conversation about nothing at all. Dean asked him about the greenhouses, then talked about his next gallery show until the ceremony began. 

\---

Hermione laughed, and to Neville it sounded very free and happy. She clinked glasses with Fred and George, who were teasing her about being the new sister in the family. Overall, it was a very bright and friendly affair. 

Neville shook Ron's hand, and complimented Hermione's dress. She gave him a quick hug, then spun around once to show it off. Neville smiled and congratulated them both once more before moving away.

Luna approached him beside the buffet table. She gently took the glass of wine from his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor. She flung her arms around his shoulders, prompting him to dance, and he couldn't help but smile at her cheerfulness. 

"Are you having fun?" she asked. 

"Yes," Neville replied.

Neville swung Luna into a deep dip. She giggled. When he brought her back up, she planted a light kiss on his nose.

"I always forget how good you are at dancing," she said, her voice carrying lightly above the music.

"I'm not," Neville protested, blushing slightly. "I just, um, practiced."

"Well, it's fun with you, anyway." She leaned close as the music slowed into a romantic ballad. "Any guy would be lucky to have you, but I still think there's only one you want."

She turned them both around so Neville was looking at Harry, who sat alone at a table on the edge of the dance floor.

Neville sighed. "He's changed."

"He's digressed a bit, yes. He just needs someone to bring him back." 

Luna stepped back, and gave Neville a gentle push in Harry's direction. Neville went reluctantly.

Harry locked eyes with him as he approached. He frowned, then downed the remaining wine in his glass. 

"Hi, Harry."

"You were right."

Neville wasn't expecting that. "Um, about what?"

"What you said at the restaurant, about… about being lost," Harry admitted.

"Oh." Neville really wasn't sure what to say to that. Was that an apology?

"Do you want to dance?" Harry asked suddenly.

Neville wasn't expecting that, either, and it took a moment for him to respond. "Sure." 

Harry grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the dance floor. He laced the fingers of one hand through Neville's, and wrapped his free arm around Neville's waist. Neville moved close to him and smiled warmly. 

\---

Harry Flooed home with Neville. 

The two of them and Ginny were the last guests to leave the wedding party, and the sun was beginning to rise by then. After spending the whole night together, and drinking quite a bit of wine, the two of them were able to talk and act comfortably together. 

Being with Harry just felt _right_ even after so much time had passed. Neville now thought that it wouldn't be so bad to have him in his life again. 

And now they stood in front of Neville's fireplace, with laced fingers and hopeful eyes. 

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly. "I never meant to hurt you. And, for the record, I never slept with Ernie, I just wanted you to be jealous."

"You remember all that?" Neville asked surprised (again).

"Don't you?"

"Of course."

There was an awkward silence. Neville looked down at his feet. Harry raised his hand and gently lifted his chin. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Neville's. Neville closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and deepening the kiss.

"You're forgiven," he murmured.


End file.
